Parenting 101

My daughter is going to be the death of me. No, literally. I really mean it. She is going to make me so insane that it will come down to kill or be killed. And since I could never bring myself to kill my daughter, I will have to be the one euthanized for my own good. Because she is only TEN YEARS OLD and already has the attitude and mouthiness I hadn’t developed until I was at least 15.

Don’t get me wrong, she is a great kid. Everyone tells me so. “Oh, you are SO LUCKY! That Lexie is SUCH A WELL-BEHAVED, POLITE GIRL! So GROWN UP! Such a PLEASANT CHILD!” And I smile demurely and say, “Thank you” all the while thinking how well she has these people snowed. Because only I know that inside that little girl’s body lurks an evil, manipulative creature that can appear at any time. And the scariest thing? When I mention any of this to other mothers of girls, the general answer is an ominous “Just wait.”

I don’t want to wait. I am AFRAID. Because as it is now, she has me pulling my hair out. I don’t remember being like this when I was little. I remember being sweet, and pleasant, and SCARED TO DEATH OF MY PARENTS. She, on the other hand, isn’t scared of me at all. And I just don’t get it. When I threaten, “Do that again and you won’t be going to so-and-so’s house, you can just stay in all day!!” she replies calmly, “Fine, give me the phone so I can call her.” Which, of course, I won’t do, because I really DO want her to go out so I can have some “me” time. So I give her the old “Well, ok, then, you have ONE MORE CHANCE.” And she smirks in satisfaction knowing she has won the battle.

DAMN! Damn damn damn!! I am CONSTANTLY outsmarted by a ten-year-old!!! But I am getting better.

Like the other day, she called me at work when she got home from school and BEGGED to go out bike riding with her friend. Of course, the answer was a flat-out no. She knows the rules: when you come IN the house, you do NOT go back OUT until I get home from work. I don’t want her traipsing the complex until I am home from work and can be there if she needs me. Since it is April, and she has been coming home by herself since September, this is not new information to her. But you would think that it was, because I got the full-out whine assault. “But MOOOOOOM!!! It’s SOOOO NICE OUT!!!” I don’t care. I’ll be home in an hour and a half, you can wait until then. “But I’m NOT A KID, Mom!! I’m TEN, not SIX!!” Stifle laughter on that one. “It’s a FREE WORLD!” Not until you are eighteen, it’s not. “Everyone ELSE gets to and KARA’S MOM will watch me and IT’S NOT FAIR…” she continued to babble and added some phony tears in for good measure, so I passed the phone to my coworker, M.

Now, M, being the good single-with-no-children person that she is, listened to the ensuing tirade with hand on hip and raised eyebrows. She knows Lexie, and has heard my stories of late as well. AND? M, being the hot-as-hell independent black woman that she is, knows how to get ghetto when she needs to. Or when she is dealing with a petulant pre-teen. All of a sudden, I heard M: “You about finished, there, Miss Lexie Ann?” I think Lexie’s tears stopped mid-stream and her jaw hit the floor when she realized who was on the phone with her now.

I sat back and listened as M unleashed her lecture on my daughter guns blazing. “Do you KNOW how many PERVERTS there are out there? DO YOU? Your mother sits here EVERY DAY, WORKING HER ASS OFF so YOU can have a good life, and still you CALL HERE asking her QUESTIONS that you DAMN WELL know the answers to, and you ADD to her STRESS like she DOESN’T HAVE ENOUGH working with SATAN every day, NOOOOO! Little girl, you better STOP and THINK about what you are DOING because if I was your mother, you’d get your ASS WHUPPED. Besides, your mother tells you no because she LOVES YOU. Do you know how long it takes to KILL SOMEONE? TWO MINUTES. TWO MINUTES and you could be DEAD. And THEN what would your mother do?? HOW DO YOU THINK SHE WOULD FEEL? Or MAYBE you wouldn’t get killed. Maybe some PERVERT would TAKE you and do TERRIBLE THINGS to you. And your mother would wind up in a CRAZY HOUSE because she DIDN’T KNOW WHERE YOU WERE!! And you all FAKE CRYING and BEGGING to do something you KNOW you can’t do!! PLEASE!!!”

She continued on for about twenty minutes, every now and then inserting, “LEXIE ANN? YOU STILL THERE?? GOOD.”

Finally, I had to go meet a client, so I just let her finish. And when I got home, I asked Lex how her chat with M was. She sheepishly smiled and said, “Good.” I don’t think she’ll be calling me at work to ask to go outside again. In fact, if I were her, I’d be afraid to go outside AT ALL. M scared me, too. Heh.

Then there’s the matter of responsibility. Obviously, she feels she is grown up enough to go out by herself with her friends when I am not at home, but there is a catch to that. She is totally clueless when it comes to cleaning up her room or her play area, sorting her laundry or putting it away, and the other night I discovered another thing she “doesn’t know how to do.”

She had eaten her dinner (which I had made) that consisted of a bowl of soup, some crackers, and a glass of milk. Since it is only the two of us, we generally eat in the living room. So anyway, she finished eating, got up, and went to go play her game cube. Leaving her bowl, cracker wrappers, and glass for the maid, apparently. When I reminded her to please put them in the dishwasher, I got a sigh and the following response, “But I don’t know HOW!”

Ok. What? She “doesn’t know how” to put dishes in the dishwasher? I could NOT have heard her right. I reiterated my request, and this time she got up, albeit grudgingly, and again commented that she “didn’t know how” to do it. So I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. I think my response was, “Look, Sweetie, you’re going to have a tough enough time dealing with dumb blonde comments in your life, but if people hear you saying you ‘don’t know HOW’ to put dishes in the dishwasher it’s going to be even tougher!” She got mad at me and accused me of calling her “dumb.” My response? “If the shoe fits.” So she started whining about how she couldn’t believe her OWN MOTHER thinks she’s dumb. As she took miniscule steps toward the kitchen with her bowl and glass.

I decided to ignore her.

And guess what? She figured out how to put the dishes in the dishwasher all by herself.

Now, believe me, I KNOW that my daughter is far from “dumb.” In fact, I am pretty positive she is near genius. And SHE knows that too. So I am not crushing her self esteem or anything when I make comments like the one above. I am simply playing her game. Because in order to survive, I sometimes HAVE to. I think. I’m still relatively new at this whole mom thing. Even after ten whole years.

Life has been pretty cushy for my girl, Lord knows I have bent over backwards to make sure she is happy and wants for nothing. So I know that this whole attitude thing is partially my own fault. It’s time for her to step up, and time for me to batten down the hatches for the fights that I know await me. This shit is HARD.

But know what? It’s all worth it. Because when she’s in her normal happy Lexie mood, I remember how lucky I am. We laugh together and talk about anything and everything and sometimes just sit together watching tv snuggled together on the couch. This morning she reminded me of a time when she was about five and tried to do a cheer for me. It was right before we took our Disney cruise with my mom, and she was really excited about it. We laughed about it all over again, because it was pretty funny. This was her cheer:

L: Gimme an “M!”
Me: M!
L: Gimme a “U!”
Me: (Somewhat confused) U?
L: Gimme a “C!”
Me: C?
L: Gimme a “K!”
Me: (Giggling) K!
L: What’s that spell?
Me: Muck.
L: What?
Me: MUCK. You spelled “Muck.”
L: NO, I spelled, “Mickey.”
Me: Trust me, you spelled “Muck.” Yay, Muck!

Her spelling hasn’t improved too much over the years, either. Ok, now I am rambling. Time to end this post. To summarize: Parenting: Hard but gratifying. Daughter: Obnoxious but wonderful. Me: Stressed but dealing. Although I think I’m getting the hang of things. Maybe.